


Candy Cigarettes -or- Shattering Time for the Aesthetic

by QuitePossiblyInsane



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: F/M, Multi, Murdoc isn't sugar coated, Plot With Porn, What phase is it?, continuous story even in seemingly standalone chapters, really gorillaz is so crazy at this point we might was well have a character who can break time, references to the old Gorillaz message boards, time is broken, we just don't know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuitePossiblyInsane/pseuds/QuitePossiblyInsane
Summary: A deal with a deity causes time to distort around you. Can you learn to control this ability? Will your life ever be normal again?





	1. Chapter 1

You could have backed out of the deal any time, so long as time continued to mean anything to you. But you just couldn't bring yourself to look away from the unknowable being who had compressed themselves into a perceivable form, hard to look at as that form might be.

They stood, 4'2", a little chubby, with pale eyes and greasy hair. They wore a white hoodie, and acid washed jeans. Bare feet against a floor that was pavement, and carpet, and grass and mud all at once. Disgusting and covered in piss and broken glass, but also clean, pristine and sterile.

"Time at yer 'ands, 'a's right," the figure sniffed heavily and coughed up something shimmery, wiping it on their sleeve, "Jus' a little subject a paymen', an' we'll be on 'er way, yea?"

"I've got um..." You hesitated, "I doubt money means anything...what is it that you'd ask?"

The figure grinned wide, a mouthful of simultaneously rotten and bleached teeth spreading across their chubby face, "Now en't you a smart one? Not jus' promisin' _anyfin' _like those li'l bastards b'fore ya, an' not jumpin' straight t'that soul business neither. Colour me impressed, suga'."

You did your best not to cringe at their slightly backhanded compliment, "That isn't an answer."

"'Ndeed i's not. Your price is t'be watched, l'il lamb. I fin' you'll be real entertainin' t'me an' the mates. D'you agree to these terms?"

Your mouth opened to answer, but as soon as you made up your mind that it didn't seem so bad, in exchange for the power to control time itself, you felt a pit drop in your stomach.

"Excellent. No more questions, pet. An' don't ferget t'ave _fun _wiv it."

And just like that, you were alone, falling through time, stuck in a swirling in-between of light and colour, as you did your best to reach out for something tangible to hold onto.

* * *

You had fallen for an instant, stretched into an eternity. When reality became solid again, you were aware of an icy blast of cool air, the scent of smoke from nearby chimneys stinging your nostrils. The road was some manner of urban environment, blocked off to cars at the moment, and making it briefly more difficult to remember what country you were even in before this whole ordeal had started.

A few shopfronts were opening up for the day, early morning sunlight beginning to stream past a small break in the clouds.

You stepped into a corner shop, attempting to get a feel for what year it might be, now that you recognised that this wasn't when you'd left behind. For one thing, the building you had been standing in hadn't been constructed yet.

The shopkeeper was a youngish man, balding a little early at the top of his skull, eyes dull and grey. He eyed you suspiciously, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

You had to admit that your clothing probably wasn't timeless....

You did your best not to make it now awkward by making eye contact, glancing casually over a newspaper near the front entrance. 15th August, 1997. Biggest news seemed to be the footballers of the area.

A crackling speaker played some top tens station. Will Smith's "Men in Black" was playing. Displays of various sweets lined the front counter.

You took a moment to glance inside your wallet, finding a bill dated before your current now, and grabbing a pack of "666 Lucky Tongues, _genuine _Candy Sticks." They were modeled after the old...or rather, modern Lucky Lungs brand cigarette packaging, all the way down to the skull above the filter. 

It wasn't a brand you were familiar with from your childhood even if you'd seen it around as an adult, but it seemed to be the only ones they had right now, and you didn't want to make it too obvious you hadn't planned to buy anything. 

The man behind the counter rung you up, seeming to have decided that he didn't rightly care that you looked out of place. The small talk was quick, and forgettable, especially given the events that closely followed.

You opened the pack as you made your way out the door, eyes widening as a dented car suddenly bashed through the barricade at the end of the street, skidding along the pavement, Black Sabbath blasting from the speakers. With a sudden jerk of the tyres, the whole thing swerved, slamming hard into a shopfront across the way, and sending glass and one very unfortunate employee flying.

The driver started cackling. The others in the car exchanged glances and quickly got out, grabbing whatever instruments they could when the greasy man seemed too distracted to respond, and finally running off down a nearby alleyway.

You stared, your breath frozen in your throat, before running back inside the corner shop, "Oi! Call 999, there's been an accident or...robbery or something across the way!"


	2. Chapter 2

You watched the ambulance and police pulling up. A thin man with blue hair, and one green eye was loaded onto the gurney. His other eye had blood and other gunk leaking from it. His tie had been cut, having been caught on something inside the music shop. He seemed unconscious, though his eyes were open. He was hooked up to breathing gear quickly.

The man behind the wheel seemed to be in hysterics. He was cackling, and coughing. He didn't even seem to notice that the police had been called until they were knocking uncertainly on his window.

You weren't sure what to do at this point, really. There was a surge of that curiosity that anyone got when they witnessed something traumatic. A sense of "glad it isn't me" and "I hope he's alright" and maybe a little "does he know what he's done?"

You took a candy "stick" out of the cigarette-style pack, tapping it on your fingernail to settle the chocolate dust "tobacco," and sidling just close enough to catch the names of the two men who seemed most involved.

Stuart Pot, and Murdoc Faust Niccals, though apparently some outdated documents listed his middle name as Ponce or something. You made a mental note of this, just in case you had a chance to find out what happened later, placing the candy between your teeth and blowing lightly to release a fine puff of chocolate dust and powdered sugar.

You needed to figure out how to make this power work. You hadn't expected a whole tutorial but...if you couldn't figure out how to get back to your own time.... Well there were _worse _things than reliving the late nineties, but still.

With a heavy sigh, you moved to sit down on a nearby bench, shivering as you made eye contact with the greasy driver of the vehicle while moving past. He winked, making your hair stand on end.

A young woman with a guitar case on one shoulder, and too much makeup stopped short of the scene, watching the ambulance pull away. She turned to look around, wide eyes settling on you, "S'cuse me, miss. D'you know wot's going on?" Her voice was sweet in a sticky sort of way, but clearly laced with concern.

"Oh um...dark haired guy crashed the car into that shop. Far as I know only one person got hurt," you replied, "There uhh. There were some others with him, but I didn't get a good look at them, so..." You shrugged.

She looked a little pale, "I'm sorry, but...did you happen to see wot the bloke who got hurt looked like?"

Crap. You had a feeling you were about to get a lot more involved than you wanted to, "Blue hair, pale...um...skinny. I think he was tall?"

_"Shit_. I've...I've got to call his mum or...god, she might be working right now...I..." She suddenly didn't seem okay.

You took a deep breath, trying to ground yourself, "Hey, hey. Listen, calm down, alright?" You stood up, "How'd you know the guy? C'mon. Walk with me. We can find a payphone. Unless you've got a mobile?"

She shook her head, sniffling as tears began rolling down her face, "Nah. I...I can't really afford one. House phone's enough, y'know? I..." She tried to compose herself, "I'm Paula. Sorry I'm an absolute mess right now." She offered a manicured hand.

You smiled lightly, nodding and taking it, replying with your own name, and gently shifting to guide her away from the scene of the crash, "It's nice to meet you, Paula. You wanna tell me about this guy, then?"

She couldn't seem to stop herself from the small smile, eveb as she wiped away mascara-tinted tears from her cheeks, "Oh, he's real sweet, really. Always trying to get me the best deals, and just...he asked me out a couple months back, you know? Took me on this brilliant date to 'is dad's funfair, and...I mean.... Like look, I'm pretty sure I prob'ly love him or sumfink, but he's just a bit...dull? But, also really accident prone. And...I just...I wasn't ready for him to go and get himself hurt like this."

You listened, having some minor difficulty following how her mind seemed to jump around slightly. It was probably easier to follow her train of thought if you knew her better. Or maybe it was your own mind that wasn't clear. Either way, it took a few seconds to work up to a response.

"I uhh. I can see why you might be worried, then," you managed, looking around at your surroundings as you walked. It was strange how much a place could change in 22 years. You were almost lost.

Fortunately, Paula seemed more than willing to make up for it, "You don't seem like you're from around here. Have you been getting on awright?"

You straightened up a little, "Oh um. I'm okay, really. Might need to find a cheap hostel, or motel or something. Place I meant to stay sort of...fell through."

The series of thoughts that went through the strange woman's head was unreadable, and effected by neuroses you would, gods willing, never grow to understand. But when she spoke, her mind seemed entirely made up, "Well nonsense. You'll just stay wiv me, yeah?"

"I...sorry, um...what? No I couldn't possibly--"

"Don't worry over it. My flatmate just moved out, an' I could use the company until someone can help me wiv rent, an' you seem well sweet." Her tone left no room for argument.

And honestly...stuck in this time as you were, it didn't seem as if your options were all that open anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

You mostly zoned out for the phone call, once you found a payphone, and the trip back to Paula's flat was blessedly uneventful. It was a bit of a mess, but she didn't seem to notice or care, leaving you to make yourself comfortable before informing you that she was going to head to the hospital to see how Stu was doing, and if you dared try stealing any of her things, she would track you down and fuck with your head so bad you ended up in a sanitorium.

Making the decision not to betray her trust was easier than it might have been otherwise.

So now you were sitting in the middle of a flat you didn't know that well, Sabrina The Teenage Witch was playing on the television in the background, turned down low as you sat on a ratty sofa and tried to figure out how to make more practical use of your abilities.

Time was not linear. You had essentially been given a peak into the fourth dimension. If you considered this more analytically, you might have a chance of understanding it. The other laws of reality didn't change just because time was no longer a part of them.

But additionally, anyone you interacted with was, in all likelihood, still effected by the flow of time.

You had to try and be understanding of that without looking down on those people. Forming connections would be hard. You hadn't done much of that even before your deal. Your family was out of the picture, your friends had moved on without you, and you had spent the last decade seeking out the beings who might grant you some power to help you better understand the multiverse.

Gods be damned if you would be alone through all of this. You could make something happen. Make something work. You _would _form connections. You would make your life what you wanted it to be, and if you needed a break, you would step out of time and float in the fourth dimensional stream of all things at once for awhile, and let it numb your unprepared mind.

You sighed, watching the show without absorbing it, chewing on the butt of your candy stick absently, before falling asleep on the ratty, green sofa.

* * *

When you awoke, you heard the sound of the ocean, a gentle and strange rocking tempting you to stay asleep. The texture of the ground beneath you was a mix of water-smoothed plastic, metal, fordite and glass. The scent of salt, liquor and the disconcerting stench of rot left too long in the sun permeated your senses.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling disoriented and out of place. You'd changed locations? And times, it seemed. A late 2000's CD case conveniently washed up on the shore.

Could you not hold onto time without concentrating on it?

You got to your feet, brushing yourself off, and feeling, frankly, disgusting as you more closely examined the surface you'd been lying on, badly painted an eye-bleeding shade of pink.

You weren't tied to time or location, apparently. Was there anything you _were _tied to? What other limits had been lifted from you without your knowledge?

The sun was setting, or maybe rising. Direction was difficult to tell. The sky was awash in a rainbow of pollution tinted colours, in a breathtaking display. A greenish fog played along the surface of the water.

Atop the mushroom-cloud shaped island of detritus, someone had built a sleek and modern building, installing an entrance of sorts right into the rubbish. Whole, much more weathered buildings, seemed to have washed up on the shore. There was even a slightly crooked leaning lighthouse, which, it seemed, functioned perfectly well, as the light made its great circle around the top of the tower.

You looked around, finding evidence of plants trying to grow, and of plastic, nature defying things seeming to mirror the more natural ones. As you explored, coming to a carnival like area, you heard a sound distinct from the oceanic drone.

A gun cocked, pressing into your back between your shoulder blades, "A-a-ac-c-ctivating tresspasser proticol," the voice was accented, and distorted, completely devoid of emotion, "Y-you-you have ten seconds to s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s--" static took over the rest of the audio, leaving you having to think fast as to what precisely you had ten seconds to do.


	4. Chapter 4

You thought as quickly as you could, raising up your hands to show you were unarmed. The android roughly jabbed you between the shoulder blades with the barrel of the gun, drawing a squeak of pain and discomfort from you.

"Okay, okay. I uhhh. I'm cooperating, see? I don't know what you want. Please don't shoot," not only did you not want to die, but you were entirely uncertain how that would work while outside of your native time.

A long line of static and glitching came from the wielder of the gun, followed by another jab to force you forward.

You stumbled a few feet, flinching and struggling to keep your footing, "Got it. Walk. I'm going." You said as calmly as you could manage, keeping your hands up as you were forced toward the centre structure of rubbish and twisted old metal.

Upon stepping into the lift, you were allowed to get a look at your captor, turning back around to face the door.

She appeared to be a diminutive young woman of Asian descent, her expression cruel but calm. Her clothing was militaristic in style, and she appeared to have a good deal more weapons on her person than anyone should be allowed to carry.

The creaking and clanging of the lift as it climbed made your stomach drop. A claustrophobic chill crawling up your spine with each story climbed trying to reach whatever prison or person she had in mind for you to face.

At this point, you'd rather be on Paula's sofa. At least there you didn't have a gun pointed at you.

The elevator door slid open, showing an office of sorts, where an oddly familiar, green skinned man was hunched over a desk. Mismatched eyes appeared wild as he lifted them from the paper to bore into you.

He grinned, "Aaah, so you're the trespasser this tin can found wandering the island. I was wond'ring when you'd come for the dullard. Honestly, I'm surprised not to've seen you sooner." He shot a look at the android, still pointing a gun at you, "Drop it, Noodle. She's a friend of the band."

It took a very long moment before his appearance clicked in your head. How long had it been? He'd changed so much....

"I'm...I'm sorry, what? I...you're...are you...Murdoc Niccals?"

His expression went through a variety of emotions, before settling into amusement, "Don't tell me, love...is this the first of your little trips to see us, or have you gotten a dent in your head to match the dullard?"

You stood up straighter, unsure how to respond.

He almost choked on the air as a dusty cackle broke through the sound of ocean, seabirds, and electric discharge from the android near the door, "Bloody hell, don't...don't worry about it love. Suffice it to say we're _very _good friends at this point. Maybe even a bit more than that, if you catch my drift," he lit up a cigarette, leering at you with a smirk that could curdle water if given enough time.

"Wow. My standards must drop pretty low, if I ever consider you. Holy crap," you shook your head, moving to a free chair, "You said something about rescuing someone?"

"Don't get any ideas," he growled, gesturing with his cigarette, before taking a large drag, "Faceache is sleeping off a bit of a...erm...panic attack of sorts."

"Look. I have no way of leaving this island, until I jump to another time, and this is only maybe my second jump, so if you know me, I'd really appreciate some explanation of what exactly I am to you, and whoever you have prisoner here. I'm absolutely clueless right now. I'll make it up to you at some point. Don't know if it'll be past or future, but I will. I just need some things clarified."

The Satanist stuck his fag between his teeth, adjusting a captain's hat over his greasy mop of hair, and sitting back in his chair with a creak, "Fine. Ask away. But only because I happen to be...hrmhhehe_...very _aware that you're...good for your word." He steepled his fingers, a little dramatically.

You shuddered. You really didn't want to know what the aging rocker meant by that, "Do you know why I've shown up around where you are twice now?"

"Mmm...not entirely sure, love. You said something about er...not being tied to time, and limitations of three dimensional beings in fourth dimensional space, or some rubbish like that."

"I see. Have you seen a short person in all white, with...mind numbing features?"

"No."

"Right. Of course you haven't. Have I...told you anything about how I set back to a different time?"

"Some rubbish about an anchor, and some shallow motivation. Mentioned something about needing to er...rrrrrestabilse or something."

"So...I'm just unstable right now?"

He laughed again, a raucous and coarse sound, "Join the club. We've got hats."

"I see. I think that's enough for now." It was difficult to think past your own racing thoughts.

"Indeed. In that case, kindly piss off. I've some work to do, and of you're not planning to return that favour _now, _then I suggest you go and bother someone else."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. Still alive, just don't have much time. I'll update whenever inspiration strikes.

You got up, and turned to make your way back to the lift, eyeing the android warily as you stepped inside, examining the buttons and hitting the one for the ground floor. Your stomach wrenched as the lift closed and dropped underneath you, making nausea climb your throat. The scent of rusted metal and salt filled your head. 

When the lift lurched to a stop, and the door creaked open, a shape in all white stood on the other side, looking bored, and perhaps a little annoyed. Their hair was up...probably. Clothing consisting of white crocs, a pair of white and grey swim trunks, and a white tank top. They leaned on a clear plastic umbrella like a cane, and wore sunglasses that made them easier to look at.

All at once, your feet came put from under you, and you were on your knees in front of the being that granted you your powers. Your heart jumped in your throat, and you paled, painfully aware of the concrete, broken plastic and shattered glass pressing into your jeans.

"Suga' wot woz the _las' _fin' I told'ja?" Their voice was large and loud, but barely broke a whisper.

"I....um..."

"'Ave _fun _wiv it.' Trynna figure out 'ow it all works, askin' these reasonable flippin' questions, I'd 'ardly fink you were the one who made this deal t'begin wiv. Do yeh really wanna go back now? Come on. You 'ad a reason to break time, an' it wozn't jus' for the aesthetic."

"I mean...if you'd explained it to me, maybe I could've--"

"By the gods! Let loose a little! Ya don' 'ave to understand to experience it. I oughta take some of that sense out of your pretty little 'ead!"

You shook your head, "That wasn't the deal."

"Who writes the terms of the deal, sweet'eart?"

You clenched your jaw.

"Tha's right. See? Too flippin' smart. Wot ever 'appened to those naive sweeties we'd get left as tributes?"

"They grew up. Besides, you're lucky anyone even still knows you exist," your tone was stubborn as ever.

"Yeah, your little coven did a lovely job raisin' ya. Shut it. Yer the firs' tribute in centuries, an' by yer own 'and no less. That means I own ya, an' if I wanna take you down a few pegs, you'll know you've earned it."

You flinched, looking away.

"Tell ya wot. I'll just make you a touch more impulsive, an' we'll call it even? Don't answer, I don't care." With a vague gesture, the deity left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still alive and doing okay. Just dealing with some mental health issues lately. I'll not overwhelm y'all with details. After all, you're here for the story, right?

More impulsive? What in the everloving hell was more impulsive meant to mean? What good would any of this do you if asking questions was too boring for the powers that be?

You sighed, squinting out at the plastic shoreline, and glittering polluted water. Sunlight, intense and burning, pierced through the eerie fog to sting and warm your skin, as a pungent breeze washed through you. The debris digging into your knees dragged you back to the present, and you made a mental note to check if you'd received your tetanus shot recently.

More impulsive....hm. Maybe they had been bluffing? Trying to sike you out?

Your thoughts wandered to the promise you'd made to Murdoc, to make it up to him if he answered your questions. A small shiver went through you at the thought, knowing that, with no impulse control, you might go through with a _lot_ more than you could currently imagine. Apparently you were anchored to this man? Or something close to him?

You got to your feet with a dull scrape of boots on concrete, brushing yourself off. You were torn between getting it over with, and seeing just who it was you weren't meant to rescue. The opposing impulses warred in your mind, and for too long, you stood still with indecision.

What finally broke the tie was the idea that you might not manage to tell Murdoc 'no' when it finally came time for that favour. In that case...well, there were worse things than making up for it. Obviously he hadn't given you all the information you deserved to know, so...yeah. Taking it for yourself was a viable path forward. Whichever direction forward was for you, now.

You turned back to the terrifying, cylindrical lift, hitting the call button and stepping in, your finger hesitating above the button that felt right for only a moment before pressing it. 

The same, familiar feeling of your world dropping out from under you, made your stomach jump into your throat.

When the doors opened, it was on a cramped, messy room. Pictures were posted around the exposed pipework, and deep, skin-crawling creaks and groans from the surrounding structure, which bobbed and swayed ever-so-slightly with the tide, caused your skin to pale, and your heart to race. A tall, thin man sat, curled on the bed, headphones covering his ears, eyes closed, a half smoked cigarette sending a trail of light grey from the ashtray, up into the air. The room smelled of smoke, and salt, and cheap vanilla, with a metallic bite of rust. 

The sound of the music spilling out from his headphones echoed against the steady drip-drip-drip of a leaky pipe. The room felt extremely claustrophobic, all while trapped in the dark and vast deep of the middle of the ocean.

You stepped into the room, holding back a shiver in the chill and turning your focus to the tired, stressed man on the bed. As you moved another step closer, you became aware of the soft, scraping, clicking, winding sound of the tape deck he was listening to his music on. Heh. Wasn't this the future? Who still listened to cassettes?

Wait. Wasn't this...Paula's boyfriend? Stu? Hadn't he been hit in that car, by the green-skinned man upstairs? Why was he here? If he chose to be here, why did Murdoc tell you not to rescue him? What was he to you if....

The music faded, the tape clicking to an end, just as a loud crack broke the background drone, directly under your boot. A CD case, CD inside, lay cracked, and reflecting the light on the floor.

Stu's eyes snapped open, dark and distracting. It was hard to tell if he was looking at the source of the sound, or directly at you, but you were relatively certain you were making eye contact. The expression on his face went through confusion, relief, fear and a number of other expressions you couldn't name. He lurched to his feet, closing the distance between the two of you in a long stride, and wrapping his arms around you tightly.

"I..." You couldn't seem to speak in that moment, settling into the hug like it was where you belonged. He felt so warm in the chilled room.

"I can't believe yer actually 'ere," he clung to you as if you were a lifeline, "I didn't fink you'd...."

You held him a little tighter, unsure what else to do, "Shh, it's...it's okay. Calm down, I'm...I'm here?" 

He pulled back, brushing a long-fingered hand through your hair, and leaning down to press his lips against yours.

Your perception of reality shattered. The kiss had come out of nowhere, and yet it felt perfectly natural. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him back, tongue wrestling with his, and playing along the gap in his teeth, as you hooked your arms around his shoulders.

He kept his lips locked with yours, stepping carefully back to sit down on his bed, pulling you into his lap with practiced ease, as if he'd done so a hundred times before.

You pulled back to catch your breath, gasping softly as he shifted his attention to kiss and nip down your neck, "W-wait, I...I have to..."

He planted a final kiss where he had just bit, before pulling back to look you in the eye, "Mm?"

"I...you...you know about my um...condition, right?"

A shadow of concern washed over him, "Wot? Er...yeah?"

"This is...th-the first time. Or I guess the second? Look, I'm sorry, b-but the last time I saw you, you were being wheeled off on a stretcher, after getting hit by a car. I'm..._really _confused right now. When did we...?"

"Oh."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the comments and kudos since the last chapter! My access to internet has been a bit spotty, but I'm making an effort to login a little more! 
> 
> Now, without further ado, let's do further.

Even as Stu seemed to avert his eyes, difficult as it was to tell, you didn't move from where he'd pulled you onto his lap. Groaning metal and dripping pipework filled the silence that stretched between you.

Without thinking, you tried to break the almost tense quiet, "I...last time I saw you, you were hit by this car, and the guy upstairs was driving and this girl started panicking--"

"Wot?"

"Paula, I think her name was. She had to call your--"

He flinched noticeably, and you stopped short. Even as his expression shifted to one of discomfort and even anger, his touch was gentle as he guided you off of his lap, and onto the bed next to him.

You shifted position without argument, "I'm...sorry? I'm just...still really kind of freaked about all this. I didn't mean to say anything...like...upsetting," you wrinkled your nose at your inability to phrase your apology more eloquently.

He sighed, shaking his head, "I get you couldn't warn me, love," he replied quietly, not looking at you, "An' I get you're well confused an' all that. I don't really get it all either, but I can try 'n answer any questions you got." His tone betrayed a tiredness that reached his soul.

A twinge of guilt washed through you, but you did your best to push it down, "Okay...so, are we...y'know. _Together, _or is it more...casual than that?"

"Been togeva on'n'off for er..." He paused, counting on his fingers, "Six years now? Like we slept togeva a few times b'fore that, but it wozn't official until we met back up at Kong."

Your face went red. You tried to focus, "Oh. Um...what year is it?"

"2010."

"Right. And...what happened with Paula? It feels like she was just worrying over you from my point of view."

He flinched again, "I...don't wanna talk about 'er. You'll...er...see wot happened soon, I fink. An like...I don't wanna mess up anyfin' that 'appened if I tell you."

You gave him a nervous grin, "Ah. I uh. I guess it makes sense. It wouldn't be very good if I accidentally completely changed how things are supposed to go."

He nodded, silence threatening to fill the space again.

That itch to speak again swelled up within you, "So, do we ever end up working something out to make this time travel thing easier for us both?"

An easy grin crossed his face, showing the gap in his teeth, "It woz a bit rough at first, but I fink we're workin' it out," he paused, taking your hand in his and absently stroking his thumb over the back of your knuckles, "I guess you're not 'ere to rescue me this time, then?"

You gave a nervous chuckle, "I'm afraid not. I...I wouldn't even know where to go, or how to get there, or how long I'll be here. I'm not very stable yet. Hell, I took a nap back in the 90's and ended up here. Which, you probably know already, is like, weirdly future to me, even if we are marooned on a plastic island."

He gave your hand a squeeze, "You get a bit more stable'n all that at least," he assured you, "_Usually_ you stay about a couple days at a time b'fore a jump."

You sighed in relief, slowly leaning against him, "Thank the gods," you whispered.

He felt both familiar in how well he knew how to hold you, and new, as his arm slipped around you, pulling you tight to his side. Your eyes began to close, and you deeply breathed in the scent of cigarettes and vanilla. Stirrings of something you didn't want to put a name to yet swirled within you.

"Stu, right?" You suddenly felt the need to confirm his name.

He gave a surprised laugh, kissing your hair, "Yeah. Mos' people call me 2D now, but you can call me Stu."

You nodded, snuggling close, "Did you...still um...want to...?" You could feel your skin growing hot again.

He shook his head, "You don't need to feel pressured into all that, love. For now jus'...lemme 'old ya, yeah?"


	8. Chapter 8

The next few hours passed calmly, the whale outside even swimming off to sate it's appetite elsewhere while you and 2D cuddled on the bed.

A small blu-ray player sat, propped on his stomach as a horror film whose graphics didn't match the blu-ray's picture quality played.

While he seemed rather focused on the film, he still took the time to answer questions as they came to mind, or to direct a few your way, though his had more to do with how you were doing right that moment than getting to know you.

Comfortable as it all was, a buzzing, restless twitch was starting deep in your brain, and the movie became harder and harder to focus on. By the time the credits rolled, you practically sprang out of his bed, pacing the messy floor between pipes.

"Sorry, Stu. I'm just...gods, I have way too much energy." You covered your face for a moment, pressing your palms into your eyes.

He sat up, brow slightly furrowed, "I's a bit early..." He said hesitantly.

"Early?"

"Well...I mean, like...I know you mentioned napping wiv the las' jump, but by the time we firs' met on my end, you didn't really sleep anymore. You jus' got kinda restless an' like...twitchy."

You blinked slowly. Did that have something to do with you being more...impulsive, or whatever? Never sleeping again certainly would make it hard to control your impulses. That, plus hours at a time, alone with your thoughts...some people might do anything to kill that kind of boring.

A sigh passed your lips, but the building tension in your shoulders didn't fade at all, "Son of a bitch...I'm going to kill that fucking god I've day..."

"Ngh?"

You shook your head, "Don't worry about it Stu. I'm..." You sighed again, almost defeated, "When do we first meet on your end? I wanna put this energy toward something useful, and see if I can aim for a specific stretch of time."

He nearly closed one eye, nose wrinkling cutely and eyebrows scrunching together as he tried to pull up the exact year in his mind, "Well er...I woz still wiv...y'know. _Her_ at the time. It woz around '98 or so, I fink?"

"Right. I'll...try to aim for that, and hope I don't end up back in Paula's flat. Thank you for being so understanding about all this."

His momentary wince at Paula's name was quickly covered by a soft smile at your thanks, "Course, love. You 'ave a safe trip frough the timestream, or 'owever it works. Love you." The last bit was added casually and without thought.

A heated blush crawled up your cheeks, and you couldn't help the smile that reflected back at him, "Thanks. I'll see you soon...I hope."

You closed your eyes then, trying to focus on the unsteady wisps of time, swirling around you in endless threads and possibilities. Without moving, you reached toward one specific one, and pulled reality coming apart in every way that mattered, as you rushed toward your barely known destination.

When reality began to solidify around you, a few things were immediately apparent.

An unbelievable, indescribable stench permeated the air, worse than even the plastic island you had been on before. Thunder and lightning split the sky above you, and rain poured down in buckets, somehow making the smell worse instead of washing it away. The ground beneath your feet was muddied and slick, and a single, massive building sat crammed on a hilltop between what seemed to be an endless landfill, and an aged cemetary.

The distant sound of moans echoing through the cemetery sent a shiver right down your spine, not helped by the rain quickly soaking through your clothes and into your skin.

You made a beeline for the steps up to the building, hesitating before ringing the doorbell.

A loud buzz and scream echoed from inside. You silently hoped that this was the right place, and that the doorbell was just them trying to be edgy, but made a mental note not to hit it again...just in case.

Given the size of the building, it was reasonable to assume that it would be some time before they got to you. But it didn't stop you from hoping, as the shuffling and groaning from the cemetery grew closer, and the rain continued to pour with no sign of slowing.

When the door finally opened, the familar face of Paula was there, no makeup this time, eyes a little wide when they registered what they were seeing.

"Aaa! [Y/n] I can't believe you're here!!" She yanked you inside, to a partially painted lobby, and out of the wet and stench of outside. The door shut behind you under its own weight.

You offered a grin, "Hey, Paula. How've you been?"

"Oh I've been bloody brilliant--you should know, if you're 'ere!" She paused, lightly pushing you, "You bitch! You didn't even try to call me since Stu got out of hospital. How'd you even get here? Did you bring any things? It's not safe to drive off in this weather!"

You barely kept up with her chatter, as she led you to the lift, "Oh uh. This trip was sort of a last minute plan. I just picked up and went, y'know?"

"Bloody hell. You're like one of those wandering vagabond types or summfingk. Oh! I should introduce you to the rest of the band! You haven't got to meet Stu yet either, right?"

"Oh uh. Yeah, no, not yet."

"Brilliant! I'll get you dressed in some of my things, an' we'll get everyone gathered for supper so I can introduce you. Oh! Would you believe the drummer is an American?"

"No shit?" You held back a slight shiver in the chilly building 

"Yeah. Oh, and you'll _never_ guess who started this whole band thing!"

You pretended to think about it, "Mmm...is it...I dunno, that guy who hit your boyfriend with the car back when we met?"

Her eyes got wide again, "Well shit. You're like..._really_ good."

You grinned, "What can I say? I'm thinking of taking my psychic show on the road, but I'm not sure I'll do as well on strangers."

"God, that's brilliant," her voice was as candy-sweet as ever as she dragged you out of the lift, "C'mon, let's get you dried off."


	9. Chapter 9

Once a side trip to grab a towel from some ill-placed storage closet on the next floor had been accomplished, the trip back to the main floor was a quick one, the lift not nearly as terrifying as the one on the rubbish island had been. A quick trip down a hallway, then to a door that led down a narrow concrete stairwell to the carpark rounded out the trip, as you were continually dragged along by your wrist, like a tired parent trailing an over-excited 12 year old. Occasional moans and groans echoed, from the other floors of the parking structure, but they were so far distant that it hardly seemed worth worrying about, as Paula ushered you past a cramped looking Winnebago and toward a door with a cutesy sign written "Paula x Stu-Pot 4-eva!! xx~" in pink ink. You made a concentrated effort not to flinch, knowing that the relationship would apparently not be lasting much longer.

The room was larger than you expected, and littered with clothing both masculine and feminine. It smelled of vanilla, and butterscotch, bubblegum and cigarettes, with the slightest hint of alcohol which may have, at some point, been spilled into the carpeting. An old TV was shoved against one wall, with a standard computer keyboard, and some sort of complicated electronic setup that apparently worked as a fully functioning modem built out of scavenged scrap. The colour of the whole room was clashing and almost headache inducing.

"Wow. This is...erm. Retro."

"Oh, it's not _that_ bad," she slapped you lightly in the arm, going over to a brightly coloured dresser and pulling out a few things for you to put on, "Oi, why don't you ever dress up? I don't fink I've seen you in something that shows off your figure even once. If you're going to be staying the night, you might as well have one of the other blokes to warm your bed, yeah?" She grinned over her shoulder, throwing you a wink, "That Murdoc is actually a _catch _if you ask me. Like Errol Flynn, or summfingk! Like, Russ isn't bad either, but honestly he's not really my type. Bit too quiet if you ask me. But that Murdoc! Mmm."

Your brows shot up, "Aren't you in a_ relationship?" _It occurred to you only after you spoke that your words might change the way things were meant to go, but it was too late._  
_

"Yeah, but you aren't! B'sides, it doesn't matter where I get my appetite, so long as I come 'ome to eat." She stuck her tongue out between her teeth, tossing the dry clothes toward you, "Well, hurry it up! Get changed before Stu comes back. I sent him and Russ out like, fifteen minutes before you arrived to get takeout for dinner."

You shook your head, turning to face away from Paula, and quickly stripping out of your soaked outer layer. You were a bit more full-figured than Paula, who ran more gangly and tall than you, but her clothing fit well enough, if a little tightly. The way it accentuated certain parts of your figure wasn't lost on you, and while you would have preferred something that left more to the imagination, you were at least happy to be dry.

"Wow. Nice arse."

You turned around, colour climbing your face, "Paula!"

"Wot? It's true. I have no idea why you don't dress like this more often. You're always wearing that same shabby coat and boots. You'll never get a man like that."

"And what if I'm not looking for a man?" You crossed your arms over your chest protectively.

She tilted her head, before dawning realisation crossed her face, "Oh bloody hell, don't tell me you're a Rodger-dodger? I'm sorry, I hadn't thought of that, I--"

"A what?" You cut her off before the already awkward apology could get more awkward.

"You know. A _lesbian?" _She said it like it was obvious, "Look, if you are, that's fine, I just hadn't thought of that. I'm sure one of the boys has some friends that swing both ways, then--"

"No, no-no-no-no, I am _not _a lesbian. I mean. There's nothing wrong with them, I'm actually bi, but. Gods, I just wasn't really looking to shack up with anyone tonight, Paula!"

She stared for a moment, "Oh, well, in that case, I'm glad my gaydar isn't _completely_ busted. Look, love, you just need to loosen up a little. We can break out the booze, and have a great time. Wotever 'appens 'appens. No pressure."

You shook your head, waving a hand dismissively, "Fine, fine. Whatever you say. Where should I hang up my clothes to dry?"

"Follow me, we'll hang 'em in the toilets. There's some shower stalls off the side where they can drip dry. Laundry's not installed yet, unfortunately," she strutted as she walked, leading you back out of the room, and into the main building.

Metal was now blasting from the Winnebago, as the two of you walked past, and Paula took you on a brief tour of some of the studio, though you found your attention wandering as she chatted on and on into the ether, not letting a single silence or pause go by without commenting on _something._

Around the time you reached the kitchen, the classic Nokia ringtone sounded from the guitarist's direction, and she fished around in her cleavage for a moment before answering, "Hello?"

The voice from the other end was muffled and nearly inaudible.

"Ooh! Brilliant. Save me a spot on the couch, we'll be down in a tick.... Oh, oh yeah. I got a mate over. You know my old flatmate when you were in hospital? Yeah, just showed up! Walked here, if you can believe it.... No, Stu, she's not bit. This isn't one of your zombie films. It's fine. Mm-hm, we'll be right there." She hung up, heading to the cabinet to take down a couple bottle of liquor, handing an entire one to you, "Come on. We're gonna watch a film in room 11. We've got a bit of den setup in there, until the cinema's done being remodeled."

"You have a _cinema?"_

"Well, not yet. It's like. Just this big concrete room, right now. We're just working on a bunch of improvements to the place wiv the advance from the album cheque."

You shook your head, "As you say, Paula," your voice was barely above a mutter at this point, as she led you to the room the others were waiting in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had to track down the old Kong Studios layout to try and remember what's where. I figured I could take some liberties with pre-phase-one tho. Hope you enjoyed regardless. Also, hope no one minds that the reader is female bodied. If there's enough demand, I can do another version with a male-bodied reader.


	10. Chapter 10

Paula strutted toward room 11, getting out, and lighting a cigarette with a free hand as she went. She kept talking, "We're gonna be watchin' a couple films. The first one is this new film called the Matrix? I don't really get it, but there's summingk wiv like computers or somefing. Then Murdoc insisted we get this other film, Fight Club, or he won't join us. I've no clue wot it's about, but I guess it's based on a book?"

You could hardly follow a word she was saying, as your mind wandered, a little unsure about drinking when you apparently had an unusually hyperactive sense of impulsiveness. Alcohol already did things to your inhibitions that made you popular at parties, if not for the best reasons. You could hardly imagine what it would do when you were already on the verge of acting on every little thought that came to mind.

Of course, that in and of itself was enough to seal your fate, wasn't it? You couldn't say no to cheap gin, and movie night with people who were apparently your friends and anchors in the weird and twisted fabric that your reality had become.

Paula flicked you in the nose, startling you out of your thoughts, "Oi! Are you ignorin' me?"

You flinched, standing straighter, "No, sorry. Just um. Distracted is all."

"By _wot?"_ She glanced around the featureless hallway, as she led the way through the next door.

"Nothing important, I just. Thought of something is all." You tried to wave it off.

She took a deep drag of her cigarette, before shrugging and pushing her way into room 11, where 2D and another, larger man who must have been Russel, were setting up a VCR, "'Ey love! How's it going?"

"Pretty good. I fink I got the plugs all lined up right. Oi Russ you got it to stop flashin' 12'o'clock yet?"

"I'm tellin' you 'D, it don't need that fixed to work right."

"Well yeah, but i's well annoyin', idn't it?"

"It won't show it while the video's playin'. Don't worry about it."

He looked uncertain, "Well...I mean if you say so."

Paula sat down on the sofa, portioning out some Indian takeout without waiting for anyone else, "Well come on! Grab some yourself. You look famished."

You grabbed a plate and piled it on, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Paula, leaving room for the others to sit where and how they liked. Fortunately, your sizeable portion didn't seem to make a dent in the massive amount of food which had been set out.

2D looked up, fixing the TV stand, before leaving Russel to deal with it, "'Ullo! I'm 2-D! You're Paula's old flatmate, yeah?" He leaned over, offering a hand to shake.

You took it hesitantly, "Er. Yeah. S'nice to meet you. Paula's told me a lot about you," you did your best to keep your tone casual, as you remembered the exact taste of his lips against yours, and the way he would hold you in a future that you'd already experienced. Your heart raced. You felt like you held his hand too long, but he broke it off before it got too awkward, checking a text on his phone as he came around the table to plop down next to Paula, wrapping an arm casually around her.

"Oh brilliant. Will you be stayin' wiv us long?" He asked as he got comfortable.

You shrugged, "Not sure. Time will tell, I suppose," who knew? Your powers might destabilise after your first sip. Wouldn't that be fun.

"We got a few spare rooms. You can take your pick," Russel piped up. His voice was soft, and measured, hard to hear over even the high-pitched whine of the VCR rewinding the first tape, "Your more than welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Oh yeah. That's Russel," Paula chimed in through a mouthful of curry and potatoes.

You hummed around a bite, chewing and swallowing it quickly, "Right. The American. Nice to meet you, Russel. Thank you for the hospitality. I appreciate it."

He nodded quietly, sitting down on a nearby armchair and pulling a significant amount of the food toward himself, not even bothering to plate it up.

"Stu, start the film already," Paula nudged him with a sharp elbow.

"Oh! Sorry," he scrambled, all limbs, to his feet, hitting the play button, and carefully fast-forwarding through the opening adverts in a careful click-whir-click pattern, until it came up on the feature presentation screen. He came back to the sofa, plopping back down, and focusing on the movie.

And so the movie played. The plot, which you knew, but which was new to the people around you, continued on as it had been written. Neo found references to the Matrix in hacker forums, he was contacted by Trinity, the red pill, blue pill scene happened, the bit with the vats.

Murdoc came in partway through it, spying the bottle of gin that you had begun to dip into already by the midway point of the night so far, and prying it out of your hand as he took the only remaining seat next to you, giving you a not at all subtle once over as he took a swig directly out of the bottle before handing it back to you.

You gave him an annoyed look, ready to tell him off, but found yourself mildly taken aback by the fact that his skin was more of a yellowed tan than the green you'd seen up close so recently. You stared a moment before shaking your head, "Rude," you whispered, hesitating, before deciding that the alcohol was a high enough proof that it probably killed any germs he might otherwise have left on the bottle. You took a large sip, a pleasant heat spreading in your chest at the gulp, as your tongue began to numb under the effects of the leaf-scented liquor.

"Not as rude as talking during a film love," he teased, smirking and reaching for the bottle again, "Murdoc Niccals, at your service. And you are?" He leaned in. The scent of mixed alcohols and cigarettes hung on his breath.

"[Your name]," you replied, handing the bottle over begrudgingly, "Paula's old flatmate."

"Ohhh. Hm, I've heard about you."

"Have you now?" You whispered back.

"Well yes. You've been in a room with her. Is it really so hard to believe she can't shut u--"

_"Shhh."_

A throw pillow sailed across the couch to hit Murdoc squarely in the head. He growled, but quieted down, obnoxiously taking up as much space as he could, leaving you very little room to scoot away from him as the movie continued on. 

Heat climbed in your skin, from the liquor, or something you didn't want to think about, you weren't sure. Hopefully when the film he was here for started, he would back off a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as happy with this chapter. Rewrote it at least three times, but I wanted to put something out, so this is what you get. My own dissatisfaction aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next might be a little...ahem. Murdoc heavy. The main ship is still reader/2D tho, I swear.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honour of 69 kudos (nice) I am finally getting around to writing this chapter. :P

** _ Warning: _ ** _This chapter contains drunk, and therefore dubious consent Murdoc/Reader smut, and implied hard drug use. If you do not enjoy Murdoc-based content, or are uncomfortable with dubcon, or drug references, please feel free to skip this chapter._

* * *

The movie started. You mostly tuned it out, focusing on spice-heavy food, strong, leafy liquor, and the occasional..._probably_ accidental brush of Murdoc's fingertips on your leg as the alcohol relaxed you and you stopped actively trying to scoot away from him. Occasionally, you would tune into the film, half-remembered scenes filling themselves out as Paula pressed a bottle of rum into your hand. You weren't sure when or how you had finished the gin, but the rum warmed your throat and chest.

On the screen, Brad Pitt's character was violently shagging Helena Bonham Carter. A blush came to your skin, but impulse made you watch until the line, "I haven't been fucked like that since gradeschool," caused a raucous cackle from the bassist, drawing your attention.

Without thinking, you nudged him roughly, "Oi! Shh."

His mismatched eyes twinkled, and he gave a wide, snaggle-toothed grin, "Oh, sorry love. Were you enjoying that? You know, fun fact, the line was supposed to be 'Tyler, I want your abortion,' but that was bit much for 'er I guess," he may have quirked a brow, but it was impossible to see behind his thick, greasy bangs. He leaned in, taking the rum from your hand, lips brushing your ear, "I bet I could make you say much, _much_ worse."

The low chuckle he gave sent an involuntary shiver through you. His voice had been low enough that no one else had seemed to hear, and your heart raced, colour rushing to your skin. You waited for him to finish his swig of rum before snatching the bottle back, taking a large, warming sip, and attempting to return what little attention you could keep to the movie.

But the more you drank, the more difficult it became to focus. You could have sworn you lost some time, but no one reacted like you'd disappeared and reappeared at any point. More than once you caught the one of his long nailed fingers dipping into top of your borrowed, low-cut shirt, causing your nipples to harden, and your breath to hitch. You carefully shifted to remove his hand without being too obvious, crossing one arm across your chest, and one leg over the other in a futile attempt to control yourself.

His arm hooked around your shoulders, and by the time the movie was ending, and the others were talking about what to watch next, neither you, nor Murdoc were paying much attention. The rum sat, two thirds gone, and almost forgotten on the table, as you leaned heavily against the Satanist, toying with his upside-down cross absently.

It took a few tries, before Russel managed to get your attention, "Hey, [your name], you a'ight? I can help you to a guest room if you're tired."

"No, no, no, no need, Russ. I can escort the young _mademoiselle," _Murdoc's heavily accented French was terrible, "Come on, now, love, lets get you to bed. You're right legless." He moved to help you to your feet, supporting you as he stood.

"No, no, no, no _you, _ya cracka' ass. I know what you're plannin'."

"It's fine!" You piped up, waving it off, though you were still leaning on him just to have a chance at keeping on your feet, "I c'n," you paused, trying to compose yourself, "I c'n handle m'self. S'cool. Really." You gave the drummer a silly grin, "I-I-I promish."

He narrowed his eyes, "Well I can't stop ya. Just don't do nothin' stupid."

"Oh, chill out Russ. She's an adult. She can make 'er own decisions," Paula piped up, "You two 'ave fun!" She shot a wink, and gave a little wave.

Murdoc smirked, "Will do," he replied, looping an arm around your waist to better support you, and leading you out the door, and down the hall.

You leaned on him. You could hear Paula still talking from the partially ajar door as you reached the other end.

"Trust me, she _needs_ this. Honestly, a little shagging'll do 'er good. She's so _uptight._"

"W-wait," you turned to try and go back toward the room the others were in, "Wha's she on about?"

The bassist dug his fingertips lightly into your side, pushing you gently through the doorway at the end of the hall, and hitting the button for the lift, "Now now, love, no need to get worked up over all that. I've got something to _really_ work you up."

Your eyes were unfocused, you leaned more heavily on him as your world spun, "You what?"

"Hmhmhm, let's just get you lying down, eh, love?"

You nodded slowly, taking a careful step into the lift as the door opened, shivering slightly at the draft that wafted up from the shaft below. How much had you had to drink? Surely enough to send most people to the hospital, but you didn't seem to be experiencing the worst symptoms, at the moment.

Your skin felt hot. You leaned against the Satanist, pressing your forehead into an exposed bit of his collarbone to try and cool off, and keep steady, as he hit the button for the carpark level. He ran his hand through your hair in a soothing gesture that caused a shiver to run down your spine, giving a gentle tug to pull your head back, so he could lean down to kiss along your jawline, pinning you between himself and the elevator wall.

This lasted what felt like minutes, but couldn't have been more than thirty seconds. The door opened on the chill carpark, and he concluded his attention with a light nip of sharp teeth on the soft spot between your jaw and your neck, before shifting to help you walk toward his Winnebago.

"Wait I th-thought I was gonna stay in. In a guest room?" Light confusion furrowed your brow.

"Ah, those aren't finished. Not to worry, pet, my bed is plenty big enough for two," the door opened with a creak. He helped you up the steps, onto soft, deep red shag carpeting, helping you to the back to a round bed that took up most of the space in the room, "Get yourself nice and comfy, love. I'll be along in just a tic." He didn't try to hide his mismatched eyes traveling the full length of your body, before he turned to do something in the other room, while you got yourself settled.

You squinted slightly in the dimly lit room. A Pazuzu lamp, from the Exorcist, glowed a soft red in one corner, casting the room in lighting that hurt your eyes as your tried to take in your surroundings, while fumbling to try and remove a borrowed shoe. The bed was soft. A laptop was shoved under the bed, and some discarded clothing scattered about. The blinds were closed to the carpark around them.

Murdoc shuffled about with something in the front of the RV, making a stop in the bathroom in the narrow hall between the bedroom and livingroom areas, taking long enough for your head to start to clear just a little.

By the gods...what were you doing? It was obvious what he wanted, even as drunk as you were. But...would it really be so bad? You and 2D weren't technically together at this point. Hell, as far as you were concerned, you'd snogged the man once, and that had been that. Will have been? Will having been? Time travel was weird. What had you been thinking of again?

Right. Murdoc. Gods, the way he'd held you coming down the lift _had_ been nice. And it had been a long time from your perspective since you had had some noncommittal fun...

You didn't have a chance to follow that thought to its conclusion, as he stepped out of the bathroom, shirt off, to show an underweight form, and certain swagger to his step that drew your attention exactly where he wanted it, at least so long as he was moving. As he came to the foot of the bed, where you still sat, you noticed his pupils, blown so wide that his eyes almost matched. A length of rubber was tied around his upper arm, making the veins bulge under olive-toned skin.

You tugged on the end of the rubber on his arm, "Wha's this?" You asked, quirking a brow. Your head felt swimmy and light.

He glanced at it, "Ah. Just doing some uppers before the main event," he snapped off the band, flinging it across the room, "Interested?"

You frowned, managing enough presence of mind to shake your head, "Mmnnah. I'm not...I don't like needles," you suppressed a visible cringe.

"Mmmmm, I'll keep that in mind. Let's not delay, then, shall we?" He hooked your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up at him as he pressed his lips against yours, prying yours open with his tongue to deepen this kiss as he pushed you roughly back.

A soft groan passed into the kiss, and you held onto him for balance as your head spun at the sudden change in angle. An impatient growl sent a vibrating shudder through you, as he shoved your shirt down to free your breasts, breaking the kiss to nip and bite down your neck, while he tweaked a nipple.

Your head tilted back involuntarily to give him more access to the sensitive spot on your neck. Without thinking, one of your hands laced in his thick, dark hair. His hand shifted to push your borrowed jeans down. You lifted your hips slightly to make it easier, causing him to respond with a deep, throaty chuckle.

"Someone's eager," he purred.

You blushed, and your head felt like it was spinning, "Yeah. You." The comeback made sense in the moment.

"Mmm I don't see you doing anything to slow me down, love," he replied, sitting back to pull your jeans and underwear off the rest of the way, in one go, and tossing them aside.

"J-jus' shut up," you pressed your legs together slightly, hot and cold at the same time, torn between wanting to continue and wanting to maybe try and sober up. The bed felt like it was spinning underneath you. Your eyes kept losing focus. You could barely think, and every time you tried, the effort would cause your thoughts to become even more slippery and hard to hold onto.

"Gladly," he smirked, pushing your legs apart effortlessly. He waited until you were looking at him, before running his long, wet tongue along the length of your already wet pussy, giving a little flick as the tip of his tongue reached your clit.

You gasped, a short, surprised moan passing your lips as you dropped your head back, "Ah! Fuck."

He gave another long lick, swirling his tongue around your clit, along your labia, and back, before sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips and rapidly flicking his tongue across it.

You couldn't stop yourself from moaning, hands clenched down on the purple bedding, hips lifting reflexively as your breath came in sharp, tight gasps.

He growled again, just as impatient as before, sending the vibrations straight to your core, and pushing you hard over the edge.

The orgasm was fast, pulsing, intense, yet unsatisfying. White sparks popped in your vision, but it was over before your could really begin to ride it. A flood of wetness dripped from between your thighs, your clit hard and sensitive, your lower lips swollen with need for more, even as Murdoc pulled away, unzipping his own jeans, and freeing his hard cock.

You couldn't think with the strange need that filled your head, along with the swirling inebriation you'd leaned into. It barely registered when he pushed your legs up, fully exposing your drenched pussy, resting them on his shoulders as he lined himself with your entrance. He wasn't slow, or gentle. In that moment, that was the last thing you wanted. The position left you unable to meet his thrust, as he buried himself inside you, stretching your little used cunt wide, hardly giving you time to adjust before he drew himself out and thrust again.

Though you were swollen, and tight, you were well lubricated from your prior climax, and he had no trouble working up to a fast, steady pace, clearly more after his own pleasure than yours in that moment. A lewd feeling combined with the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you, and his hands pressing hard enough into your hips to bruise, and control your movement. It felt simultaneously degrading and freeing to be used like this, and in this precise moment, while you were so out of it, it was exactly what you needed to make you clench around him, squirming in his grip and giving a soft moan with each thrust.

"Nnh...heh, you like that?" He grunted, nails leaving trails on your skin. He released his grip on one side, hand coming down with a light smack on the side of your ass.

The scent of sex was thick in the air. Your head swam as you tried to shift your position to meet his thrusts, "Y-yes! Gods...fuck...don't stop..."

He was happy to comply, leaning in so that your knees pressed down on you, pinning you underneath him as he renewed his efforts, "MMmtell me how much you need this," he purred into your ear, giving a rougher thrust to punctuate his point.

It took a few tries to speak coherently. The cool metal of his upside-down cross dangled between your tits, as they bounced lewdly. Your mind was lost for the moment, "I need it! Fuck please fuck me like...like.._.fuck_, I need it so bad...please, please."

His own words were coming with some effort, now, "'_Like, like_' what?" He panted, taunting, and forcing you to look at him.

Another rush of heady pleasure sparked through you, "Please...f-fuck me like a...like the whore I am," you moaned desperately.

That seemed to do it for him. He groaned deeply, his thrusts losing rhythm as he picked up speed. A few of the more shallow thrusts brushed your g-spot, finally sending you over the edge, in a deep and swirling climax that left you almost screaming. He kept pumping into you through most of it, before finally pulling out, thick, hot ropes of cum splattering against your skin, one of his hands moving to pump out the last few spurts onto your wet pussy and stomach.

You lay there, catching your breath, head slowly clearing from the post-orgasm bliss, though still addled with far too much liquor. Normally such treatment would have you tired, but you were more pleasantly buzzing than anything. A small spike of regret tried to swim into your head, but it was gone just as quickly.

The musician lay your legs down on the bed, before moving to flop down onto the mattress next to you, spent for the moment, and reaching for a pack of cigarettes on the bedside table, "Mmmmfeel free to stay just like that, darling," he commented as he lit up a smoke, offering you one, and looking you over unapologetically.

You shook your head, but otherwise didn't move.

He shrugged, but didn't press the issue, "Shower's there if you want it," he gestured.

"Mmm." Words were hard.

After an exchange that would have been awkward if you were sober, you finally wiped yourself down with an offered tissue, promising yourself a proper shower come morning, or, if you couldn't sleep, come sobriety.

Of course, thanks to Murdoc's drug use, it didn't seem you would be slipping out unnoticed, since he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. He did seem a little surprised that you were also staying up, but he didn't push the issue, and, despite all the bad, turned out to be surprisingly decent late-night company when he wasn't actively trying to shag you hard enough to kill braincells.

And so, the night went on.


End file.
